


The Ones Who Bloom in the Bitter Snow

by aceofsparrows



Series: Way Down Hadestown [6]
Category: Hadestown - Mitchell
Genre: Angst, F/M, Fluff, Songfic, bleuaceofsparrows fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-18
Updated: 2019-12-18
Packaged: 2021-02-25 22:02:10
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,205
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21852631
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aceofsparrows/pseuds/aceofsparrows
Summary: The world has come back into tune, but Orpheus is now lost to oblivion. Sometimes, what the world really needs is a more than a song...
Relationships: Eurydice/Orpheus (Hadestown), Hades/Persephone (Hadestown)
Series: Way Down Hadestown [6]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1556290
Comments: 3
Kudos: 45





	The Ones Who Bloom in the Bitter Snow

**_Pour the wine and raise a cup_ **

It was impossible, improbable. It was a miracle. 

The song had done exactly when Orpheus had promised it would. The world slipped back into tune like the supple string of a well-loved guitar. Persephone returned to the world Above with her basket of flowers and dandelion wine right on time, and everything faded back to life. 

_**Drink up, brothers, you know how** _

The people danced, kissing the soft, brown earth that flowered in her footprints. Spring was here once more, and the world Above was again filled with light and promise. 

Everyone rejoiced. Well, everyone but one. 

Persephone smiled but did not dance, simply leading her usual toast to her return and nodding graciously. The world was back in tune, and yet something still rang bittersweet and dissonant. 

Something she couldn’t quite put her finger on. 

_**And spill a drop for Orpheus** _

_**Wherever he is now** _

Orpheus was missing. That was what rang so deeply in Persephone’s soul, biting and melancholy. The Poet himself, the man for which this all was to thank had disappeared when the Spring came. 

Persephone couldn’t blame him. She knew the fathomless, gnawing, suffocating ache that came with losing the one you loved. 

That same ache was the reason she drank. The reason she burned hot and bright when she was up Above and became reckless and caliginous when she was down Below. 

And Orpheus had just lost his love. His True Love. His songbird. His muse. How he must _ache._

_**Some birds sing when the sun shines bright** _

_**My praise is not for them** _

A talented traveller passed through the town. He played at the bar, settling all too easily onto Orpheus’ well-loved stool. He sang songs of the gods. Songs of heroes and long forgotten battles. Of Achilles. Of Troy. Of Medusa’s curse and Medea’s cunning. He sang of summer and glory. 

Persephone wished, for the first time in her life, that she could return to her husband early.

**_But the one who sings in the dead of night_ **

**_I raise my cup to him_ **

One night, hazy with too much wine and the smooth warmth of the summer wind, Persephone climbed up on a table, lifting her glass so high above her head that it sloshed dangerously. 

“A toast!” She proclaimed, and she grinned when Hermes rolled his eyes at her across the room. 

“A toast! To our favorite Poet. Though he may not be with us in spirit, raise your cups to him!” 

The patrons, good-natured with their full bellies and spirit-addled psyches, raised their glasses in unison. 

“To the Poet!”

_**Wherever he is wandering** _

_**Alone upon the earth** _

It was so cold. Vaguely, he knew that didn’t make sense. Wasn’t it Summer? Hadn’t Lady Persephone gone back up Above? 

Then again, maybe he had been walking so long that he’d missed Summer entirely. 

Maybe he wasn’t Above at all. Maybe he was somewhere in between. Not Above, not Below. Not Dead, but not quite Alive. 

He ached. _But why?_

_**Let all our singing follow him** _

_**And bring him comfort** _

Fall came, and Persephone returned Below. Hades was waiting at the station in Hadestown, a rare smile on his face, but it dropped when he saw her grim expression. 

“What is it, lover? I heard Spring was glorious…” 

“He’s gone Hades. Gone. Wandering who knows where, alone. He’s gone, and we owe him everything.” 

Hades frowned. Behind him, hidden by a sliver of the newly-repurposed wall that was still standing, Eurydice inhaled sharply. 

Orpheus. 

_Her Orpheus._

Lost? 

A familiar tune escaped her lips before she could hold it back, and Persephone’s eyes found her. 

“Girl, come out from there.” 

Eurydice did as she was told. 

“Do you remember him? Could you find him?” 

“Yes. Everything. Always.” 

Persephone placed a hand on her husband’s shoulder. “Please, Hades? For me?” 

_**Some flowers bloom when the green grass grows** _

_**My praise is not for them** _

It was an intoxicating thing, remembering. Something so beautiful, so breathless, but so dangerous that Eurydice wanted to sink into the memories forever. 

Orpheus, holding her in his arms. 

Orpheus, laughing at some stupid joke she’d told. 

Orpheus, the tip of his tongue peeking through his lips as he concentrated on tuning his guitar. 

Orpheus smiling. 

Orpheus dancing. 

Orpheus. 

_Orpheus._

_**Orpheus.** _

They were fair-weather memories, but she relished them all the same. After all, how was one supposed to make it through the suffocating darkness if one couldn’t remember the blinding light?

_**But the one who blooms in the bitter snow** _

_**I raise my cup to him** _

She sang as she walked. She sang softly at first, armed with nothing against the cold darkness except an old cloak of Persephone’s and a lantern Hades had lent her with surprising tenderness. But as she reached the dry, gray Above her voice lifted louder, lilting melody carried high and far on the biting wind. 

She sang of the promises they had made, of the Summers they had planned and the love they had shared. Of that sweet first night, of Orpheus’ perfect song. She sang what her heart had been singing all along, what she had been too scared to utter until now. 

She sang her soul to all the world Above, and though she didn’t see it, in each of her footprints sprung a bright red blossom, a raw crimson bloodstain of devotion blooming against the cold, white ground. 

_**I raise my cup and drink it up** _

The night that Eurydice left, Persephone climbed once more onto a table, though this time she was sober, and it was her own table in the house she and Hades shared. 

“A toast!” She announced, laughing at Hades’ good-natured shake of his head. “A toast! To our beloved Poet and his courageous Songbird. May their love make the world bloom anew. I beg you, husband, raise your cup to them!” 

Hades smiled, and they raised their glasses in tandem. 

_**I raise it high and drink it dry** _

There was a song. Something tickling at the edges of his ear, something familiar yet new and interesting. He wanted to follow it… No, run to it. He wanted to find it and bask in it and sing it as well until he remembered everything. Everything he had forgotten. 

He stepped, and heard a crunch. He looked down. The delicate petals of a flower were under his boot, bent and the color of fresh blood. 

A red carnation, blooming in the middle of Winter. 

Ahead there was another. And another. And another. 

And another. 

Orpheus followed the flowers. 

_**To Orpheus and all of us** _

_**Goodnight, brothers, goodnight** _

“Orpheus? Orpheus!” Eurydice exclaimed as she turned, having heard familiar footsteps behind her that made her heart skip a beat. There he stood, a shadow, a shade, but himself. Orpheus, her love, her Poet. 

Here. 

She had found him, or really, he had found her. 

He was holding a flower, a dazed look on his sweet face. 

They looked at each other for a moment, silent, barely breathing. 

She too held a flower, one carefully creased in black and white. 

She stepped forward, arm outstretched. 

“Come home with me?” 

It was the sweetest melody he’d ever heard. 


End file.
